


Midnight Confession

by gwyllion



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was posted anonymously on Kink Me Merlin as a fill to <a href="http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/17437.html?thread=16259869#t16259869">this</a> prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Confession

The book rested heavily on Merlin’s chest, its weight pinning him to his narrow bed. His day of serving the Prince had left him so achingly weary that he could barely keep his eyes open, nor could he muster enough strength to crane his neck to extinguish the candle that illuminated his corner of Gaius’s hovel.

He stirred in his sleep, long fingers grazing the book’s spine, the candle flickering with the almost imperceptible breeze of the wooden door slowly opening. His lips slid against each other, moistened by his pink tongue. His eyes remained closed, his breath making his chest rise and fall, the book voyaging on the tide of his sleep.

The wavering candlelight roused him from his slumber.

“Arthur?” Merlin murmured.

His eyes drifted open to see the Prince enter the room that served as Merlin and Gaius’s home.

Arthur laid a finger across his lips to indicate that he required Merlin’s silence. He placed one palm against the door, the other on the handle and pushed it shut behind him, taking care to not let the hinges creak.

“What is it?” sputtered Merlin, ignoring Arthur’s orders, as he so often did.

It wasn’t that he was willfully disobedient to his lord. It was just that his mind could never keep up with the speed at which his words escaped him, even in this exhausted state. He caught the book from sliding off the bed, certain to wake Gaius if it hit the floor. He couldn’t imagine what Arthur possibly needed now in the hours long before daybreak.

The Prince knelt by Merlin’s bedside, the golden trim on his crimson nightshirt shimmering in the candlelight. Merlin’s eyes followed Arthur’s hand as he reached out to press it against the rough woolen shirt that covered Merlin’s chest.

“I couldn’t sleep,” said Arthur resolutely.

Merlin’s heart fluttered a little under the warmth of Arthur’s hand. He noticed the signs of sleeplessness, the straw colored hair like fields of wheat trampled by a stormy wind, the dark circles beneath the Prince’s eyes rimmed in red. Forgetting his sore arms from the battle practice Arthur had put him through that morning, Merlin tried to push himself up on one elbow to begin to prepare whatever cure that Arthur deemed necessary to ensure his rest.

“I could get you a cup of mead with honey,” Merlin mumbled, still half asleep. He winced at the sharp ache in his shoulders when he twisted to lay the book on the bedside table. The hour he had spent crouching beneath the inadequate shield while absorbing blows from Arthur’s mace had taken its toll on his slight frame.

“No, Merlin, that won’t be necessary,” said Arthur, pushing his palm against Merlin’s chest.

The force was insignificant, but it was enough that Merlin reclined back into his bed, his shoulders grateful for the relief of inertia. His eyes drifted partly shut. Tired to the bone, he couldn’t muster the strength to devise another suggestion for an aid to Arthur’s insomnia. He wanted nothing more than to help Arthur, but if Arthur wished for his assistance, he might have to name the remedy himself tonight.

“Well, what do you think you need then,” asked Merlin curiously.

He wished Arthur would get to the point so he could return to sleep. Hadn’t he just spent all day as a target for the Prince’s practice with the lance and the hammer? Wasn’t his devotion to the Prince in his every waking hour with no opportunity for a day off enough to ask? But Merlin had to admit that seeing Arthur kneeling by his bedside sent a flurry of butterfly hatchlings sailing through his belly. The warmth of their wings brushed his insides, making him hide a secret smile forged in days that had almost been forgotten.

Arthur bit down hard on his lower lip, the flesh losing its color. “That’s not why I came here,” he snapped.

Merlin sighed. He had long given up hope that Arthur would treat him with the kindness that he once showed him in the past. Ever since Gwen seemed to have developed a keen preference for the Prince, Arthur’s attention to Merlin had changed from one of lord and protector to one of opponent and abuser. Still Merlin loved to let his eyes roam over Arthur’s face and body when he thought he could get away with it. He shivered at the thought of undressing his lord after a long day of armored sparring, at the memory of tending to his skin in the warm bath.

“Why are you here?” asked Merlin, his voice clogged with dream-laden sleep. It was an unusual occurrence for Arthur to come to his bedside. Such intrusions into his servant’s living quarters were reserved for incidents of the greatest urgency. Maybe there was a dragon to fight or a poison to taste. Merlin sank his shoulders into the scratchy straw mattress. His body vowed to refuse to make another effort to sit upright, since every muscle throbbed with exhaustion. “It must be past midnight.”

Somewhere in the darkness of the hidden shadows, Gaius emitted a husky cough.

Arthur glanced past the glass beakers on the tabletop, beyond the stacks of books that covered nearly every flat surface of the tiny room. He exhaled a long breath that condensed into mist in the chilly night air.

After a few cautious moments, Gaius returned to his snoring.

Arthur turned his attention back to Merlin and opened his mouth to speak, but licked his lips instead.

The hesitation did not go unnoticed by Merlin who only wanted to indulge in the freedom that sleep would bring him, certain that nothing more intoxicating stood on the horizon for him on this night. Perhaps Arthur wanted to make him shiver in the rain while he performed a midnight training session, or maybe he needed Merlin to act the part of a defensive warrior for Arthur to attack.

Unfortunately, for Merlin, the possibilities were endless.

Go ahead, tell me what you have to say,” muttered Merlin.

“I came to tell you I’m sorry,” the words suddenly spilled from Arthur’s mouth.

Merlin hadn’t expected that. 

At first he thought he hadn’t heard Arthur’s words correctly. Who was this madman and what had he done with the Prince? Merlin’s eyes flickered with gold for a brief unseen instant. Most of the time Arthur behaved like a complete and utter prat, but the sight of Arthur at his bedside filled Merlin’s heart to overflowing, so much that his magic threatened to escape from his control.

Arthur took a deep breath and clenched his jaw tight.

“Sorry?” whispered Merlin, a hitch in his voice.

Arthur gave his head a shake, flicking the strands of blonde hair from his eyes. He was more beautiful than Merlin had ever seen him, all serious and somber.

“Yes, sorry,” Arthur asserted.

“Whatever for?” Merlin asked, his half-open eyes scanning Arthur’s face through the dark forest of his own lashes.

Merlin’s mind rushed to think of a thousand things for which Arthur could be sorry, but he couldn’t decide on just one. A flush of color rose to his cheeks. Arthur, the future king, apologizing to his manservant… perhaps this could only be a dream. He fought the urge to smile, just in case Arthur was really there at his bedside- in the flesh, but Merlin was mostly unsuccessful at stifling his pleasure at the thought of the apology.

He decided Arthur’s visit must be an illusion conjured in his sleep. It had been such a long day. He closed his eyes to sink back into the pleasant warmth within the confines of his tiny bed, a place where he could dream of Arthur without the intrusion of reality.

The next thing he knew, Arthur was shaking him awake again, his strong hands grasping Merlin’s shoulders, his eyes insistent in the candlelight.

“Wake up,” urged Arthur. He swallowed hard. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

“No?” asked Merlin, eyes still closed.

“No!” Arthur nodded in disagreement, giving Merlin’s shoulders a tight squeeze.

A throaty cough echoed through the room.

“Quiet,” whispered Merlin, quirking an eye fully open, the pressure of Arthur’s strong hands on his shoulders convincing him that Arthur was real, after all. “You’ll wake Gaius.”

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed hard, his thumb working the fabric of Merlin’s sleeve absentmindedly. His eyes cast downward, looking for something on which to focus his attention. He pursed his lips before continuing, “I can’t keep treating you like I did today, like I have been treating you every day… I am trying to apologize.”

Merlin couldn’t believe his ears. Arthur had beaten him silly for weeks now. He wondered what event had precipitated the apology. Before he could think of anything rational, he realized that he rather enjoyed the sensation of Arthur’s hand on his arm as he stroked his thumb along the fabric to accentuate his words. The touch sent a soothing vibration up the limb and through Merlin’s very core, like a swarm of hummingbirds that coursed through his veins, the creatures pooling their energy and settling in the pale flesh of Merlin’s groin. Merlin sighed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

”You don’t believe me?” asked Arthur, eyebrows raised in question.

Merlin shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Dunno. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you make an apology before. Certainly not to me.”

Gaius let out a loud snore.

Arthur’s head whipped toward the sound. The men remained silent for what seemed like a long while until Gaius settled again.

Arthur returned his attention to Merlin.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Arthur said.

Merlin watched while Arthur’s eyes darted across the woolen blankets and the mattress leaking its sour hay. He seemed to be assessing the condition of the bed in which Merlin slept. His eyes betrayed him when he had apparently arrived at a decision.

“Come with me,” murmured Arthur, his fingers tugging the corner of the covers from Merlin’s gripping hands. “I don’t think I can bear the thought of you sleeping here for another minute.”

“Where are we going?” yawned Merlin, tilting his head to the side.

He released his grip on his blanket. For the first time in many weeks, he not only began to hope that Arthur might stop throwing things at him or using him as a live target for weapons practice, but also that he might restore the easy camaraderie that had existed between them prior to his becoming the object of Gwen’s affection.

“Merlin…” Arthur huffed out a quiet laugh. “I can’t let another day pass like this.”

Merlin tried not to think too much about what Arthur meant. He let him draw the blanket down, the cool air flooding over him to erase the warmth that his body had generated. He let out a little groan when he slid his legs over the side of the bed, touching his feet to the floor.

“Up with you,” said Arthur, giving his arm a tug with a firm hand.

Merlin followed and they somehow managed to slip out the door without attracting Gaius’s attention.

The silent hallway stood empty, illuminated by a torch burning from its iron holder. No one would be awake in the castle at this time of night, except the guards on the perimeter.

Arthur shepherded Merlin toward the stone steps that led to his own chambers, his footsteps echoing in the vacant hall.

Merlin shuffled along sleepily, his bare feet sliding across the cold stone floor. He stopped to yawn, rubbing his hand across his lower back, the pain of the day’s training never far from his mind.

“Come on,” whispered Arthur. He wrapped one arm around Merlin’s shoulders and caught the backs of Merlin’s knees with the other.

Merlin let out a little yelp when Arthur lifted him off the ground.

Too tired to argue, Merlin went along with Arthur’s plan. He let himself sink into the Prince’s arms, his ear pressed to Arthur’s heart.

Merlin hadn’t been carried like a baby since Hunith had last taken him in her arms to sing a lullaby or sooth an injury. The feeling was heavenly. Merlin crossed his ankles and held on for dear life, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of Arthur’s shirt to feel the muscled strength below. He felt a bit like a girl, but flailing in protest would have only toppled the pair down the stone steps. Instead, Merlin relaxed and let Arthur’s unsteady footsteps carry him up the staircase. 

When they arrived at the top of the stairs, Arthur nudged the door open with his foot and swept it shut behind them with the sole of his boot. He strode across the floor and deposited Merlin atop his bed, collapsing next to him from the exertion of carrying his sufficient dead weight.

Merlin sank down into the luxurious bedding. He seemed to float on air for a brief moment. The scent of rose petals wafted from the wicker basket at the foot of the bed and the room was warm from the recently tended fire.

Merlin’s heart raced like the galloping hooves of a mounted charge. The ache in his back would surely disappear if he were allowed to sleep in such glorious splendor as Arthur’s bedchamber.

He closed his eyes to bask in the sensations.

He was vaguely aware of Arthur lying next to him, the Prince’s breath soft against his cheek.

“You don’t have to be nice to me, you know,” grinned Merlin.

“I know,” said Arthur. He let his hand slide over Merlin’s waist, splaying his fingers so they dipped beneath the hem of his shirt and rested on the bed-warm skin of Merlin’s belly.

“I’d do whatever you asked of me anyway, no matter what,” Merlin said, mustering courage enough to cover Arthur’s hand with his own.

“I know you would,” said Arthur.

Their fingers slid together, each touch a caress.

“You punched me hard today,” Merlin said, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Twice,” reminded Arthur, nuzzling into the soft dark hair that fell behind Merlin’s ear while he lay on his back.

Merlin swallowed, blinking back a tear.

“Do you know why?” whispered Arthur, the words impossibly soft.

“I was thinking it was because-” Merlin started. Sadness overcame him and he fought to find a spot on the resplendent bed drapes on which to focus while he continued. “Because you were so dissatisfied with me as your manservant.”

Arthur pushed himself up so his face hovered above Merlin’s. His body pressed against him, not enough to crush Merlin until he couldn’t breathe, or even or make uncomfortable in the slightest way.

Merlin searched Arthur’s eyes for a sign of his anger, but he found none. 

“You’re such an idiot,” said Arthur. And without any preamble, he closed his eyes and brought his mouth down on Merlin’s parted lips.

Merlin’s eyes flashed with a sparkle of gold. He never expected the sweet taste of Arthur’s mouth on his, and the relief it provided made him forget that it was Arthur who had bullied and beaten him over the past weeks. His hands skimmed over the taut muscles of Arthur’s back to land on his neck, fingers tangling in the golden hair there. He let Arthur slide his tongue into his mouth, taking it between his lips and sucking gently on its flavor of supple leather, ripe grapes, and something else that simply could only be the taste of Arthur himself. Merlin nipped and licked at the plump lips, a smile filling his heart.

“I’m done,” panted Arthur, drawing back.

“Done?” asked Merlin, a tone of disappointment in his voice. He only held Arthur tighter, hoping he’d be able to feel the welcome heft of his body for as long as he was allowed.

“Done being harsh with you,” said Arthur softly. He carded his fingers through Merlin’s hair, pressing kitten licks along his brow.

“But why were you so cruel to me?” Merlin asked, breathless, his fingers tracing shallow grooves into Arthur’s shoulders. “You know I only ever meant to serve you.” He shifted to part his legs so Arthur could rest more comfortably between them.

Arthur sighed and took some time before answering. “That is what I’m so sorry about,” he said, his eyes shining with tears. “I had to prove something to myself, before I could be sure.”

Merlin wondered what could have been so important to the man who would someday be his king.

“What did you prove?” asked Merlin, twining his legs around Arthur’s, the soft mattress dipping with the movement of their bodies.

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s lips. “I think I proved that you, above all others, are the only one who cares about me enough to love me at my very worst.”

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur was there with a finger to stop his words.

Merlin’s hands paused in their stroking. He understood Arthur’s reasoning, as much as it hurt him to admit. 

“Everyone believes that they are true to me,” Arthur said. “But no one, not Gwen, not Gwaine, not my own father… no one but you have been willing to forego your own safety to show your loyalty to me.”

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows and stroked Merlin’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“What now?” asked Merlin with a shaky breath.

“Can you forgive me? Arthur asked. “There’ll be no more throwing things. No more weapons practice using you as the target, and no more punching you,” Arthur said, punctuating each of his concessions with a light kiss on Merlin’s lips.

“Yes,” Merlin smiled. He decided if nothing more, he could live with that, but it was nice to be afforded a place in Arthur’s bedchamber too.

Arthur rolled to his side and blew out the candle that burned beside the bed. He tucked Merlin beneath the coverlet and crawled next to him, wrapping his arms protectively around his cherished manservant.

Merlin drifted off to sleep at last, content to wait until tomorrow before renewing his request for a day off, but fairly sure that it would be granted this time.


End file.
